This is a small Christmas one-shot of Max and Peter and is set in between the second and third books after their first Christmas season together. If you haven't read Wither Wings or Avians and Arachnids, I'm sorry, but this won't make much sense to you.
Ice skating was not one of Peter's strong suits.
"C'mon!" Max called back at him as she raced ahead, twirling with her arms spread wide. The tail ends of her scarf, hair, and coat levitated in tandem as the blades of her skates cut thin grooves in the ice and sent a slush of white flying to either side. She stopped, letting Peter catch up, her cheeks red from the cold December afternoon.
"How did you get so good?" Peter huffed with effort, resting his hands on his knees.
"I go skating every year. I'll show you," she held out her hand and slung Peter's arm around her shoulders. She steadied his skates and pulled them both along.
Max looked out into the distance and spotted Tony's dark blue coat next to Steve's red Fair Isle knit cap skating halfway down the track in front of them.
"Are you spending Christmas with Aunt May again?" Max asked.
"Of course. I can't leave her there alone, can I?" Peter said.
"I know," Max said. "I was just wondering if you'd like to bring her over for Christmas dinner at my house."
"Is that really such a good idea?" Peter was skeptical. "Your dads-"
"They love you," Max replied quickly. "Don't worry about them. They've gotten over it."
"Just remember, Tony put actual coal in a stocking and hung it outside my house last year," Peter pointed out.
"He will behave," She said with finality, his arm dropping off of her shoulder so that they could hold mittened hands instead. "And if he doesn't I'll lock him in the downstairs bathroom like I did on Easter."
"Sounds like a plan." Peter laughed lightly.
Max tugged at his hand. "Let's skate."
Darcy was sitting on the couch when Max got home, legs crossed with a butterscotch candy cane in between her lacquered pout as she stared at the tv with blank eyes and furrowed brows.
"Who's the candy cane from?" Max asked, her ice skates clunking down besides the radiator so that they could thaw. She took her scarf off from around her neck.
"My secret admirer," she said bluntly. Max gave her a pointed look as she pulled a bottle of cream soda from the fridge and popped the cap. "They were giving them out for free at JC Penny's."
"Holiday shopping?" Max handed Darcy a bottle as she flopped down onto the couch.
"Stupid gifts cost too much this year." She took a swig of the soda and made a face. "What is this? Soda? Blech. We need beer."
"I need to figure out what I'm going to get Peter this year." Max picked up the remote and changed the channel to a sassy sitcom that provided good background noise and a pretty picture.
"Spending chrimbo with the man, are we?" Darcy said teasingly, poking Max's side. Max swatted her hand away. "Just get him what you got him last year, but in a different colour."
"Is that what you do with all of your gifts?"
"Pretty much." Darcy shrugged.
"So I can expect a blue bike lock this year instead of a green one?" Max asked.
"You can never have too many bike locks," Darcy said.
"I don't even have a bike, Darcy."
"Then lock something else up! A bike lock has many uses." Darcy nodded vigorously.
"Yeah I'll just lock you up instead." Max finished her soda and got up, placing the bottle in the recycling. The bottles clinked together in the bin.
"Well at least you have someone to spend Christmas with. While you're getting all lovey-dovey with your man candy on this here sofa," Darcy gestured to the overstuffed black cloud situated in front of their tv. "I'll be spending it not going to Mindy Christiansen's party."
"She that bitch from work?"
"Yeah," Darcy said miserably. "Never get a job, Max. Stay a rich heiress for the rest of your life."
"Ha, if only," Max laughed. "Now, gift ideas for Peter."
"If Spidey-Senses isn't getting me a gift, I'm sure as hell not getting him one." Darcy took a swig of her soda, which had now turned an unfortunate temperature of luke-cold.
"Fine then," Max turned up the volume on the tv and cracked open her Comparative societies book. "I'll figure it out all on my own."
"I can't figure it out." Peter took a stack of dishes from the formica counters and placed them in the sink. He turned the faucet on and let the water splash bits of food down the drain.
"What's so complicated about it, honey?" Aunt May asked, drying a bowl and putting it away. "She wants us over for Christmas dinner, that's that."
"But that's not that," Peter said. "I have to get her a gift." He hopped up on the counter, running his hands through his hair. "What do I get her? She's practically ungiftable."
"It's not that hard, Peter," Aunt May said. "Just get her something that she doesn't already have." Peter gave her a look. "Okay, something only you can give her."
"Something only I..." his voice trailed off. He turned the faucet off and began scrubbing the dishes. "I guess I'll think on it."
"Well don't think too hard," Aunt May kissed him on the forehead. "Get some sleep."
"Good night Aunt May," he mumbled.
"What about this?" Tony held up a slim black box.
"I don't think the boy need a Mont Blanc to do his school work with," Steve said.
"He needs something special," Max said with emphasis.
"So you get him something special, sweets," Tony said. "You're twenty two, I should not be helping you pick out gifts like you're twelve."
"But I need help." Max looked at the racks of glittery gifts. "And a favour."
Tony and Steve exchanged a glance.
"Can Peter and his aunt come over for Christmas dinner?" She gave them her most convincing look, which was more Scarface than babyfaced.
"Did you already ask him?" Steve held the door open for them as they excited the department store.
Max swore, Steve having seen through her facade. "Yes."
"Max..."
"Neither of us have any family to eat with."
"Max."
"They'll be spending it alone!"
"Fine," Tony rubbed his forehead. "But you're helping your father with the cooking."
Max almost cheered out loud but managed to keep it contained. It was strange, her having to ask for permission, but she sort of liked it. After years of having to cater to the babies in the family, she could be the youngest for once. Someone could take care of her. Granted, she finds herself taking care of Peter (and often Tony) more than he does for her, but she enjoyed that feeling sometimes to, the ability to be a flock leader again. Who knows, maybe they can make a flock of their own someday.
Steve touched Tony's shoulder. "Are you sure that's such a good idea?"
"If I have to put up with her boyfriend, you have to put up with her culinary arts skills." Tony concluded.
"Don't say it like that." Max scowled.
"But you are terrible at cooking."
"I was talking about Peter."
"He's your boyfriend. I'm not supposed to like him."
They were trying to make a pie and it was going downhill very fast at around 88 miles per hour.
"Now you have to take the skin off of the sweet potatoes." Steve watched over her shoulder. "Yep, just like that. And put the peels in the sink."
She threw the brown bits onto the stainless steel coating, sweet potato goop covering her hands.
"Here's the part you'll be good at." Steve grabbed a masher from the cupboard. "Smash the potatoes with all of your might." She raised an eyebrow. "Okay, half of your might. I'm going to go and get eggs from the corner store. I'll be right back."
Steve left through the front door of the mansion and it was silent in the house. Tony was below in his lab, tinkering with something before dinner. Max was just beginning to get into the swing of mashing things when her phone rang. She was about to grab it when she looked at her hands and saw that they were covered in goop. The phone continued to ring.
"Crap." She wiped her hands on a towel and clamoured for her phone, swiping the lock screen. "Hello?" her voice was breathless.
There was a pause. "Have you been running...or having sex?" Peter asked. "It better not be the sex because that's supposed to just be fore me and I don't share."
"Yes, I'm getting down and dirty with some sweet potatoes," Max laughed. "What's up?"
"Is it okay if we come over around six?" He asked.
Max took a quick glance at the clock above the stove. It read 4:18. "Yeah, sure."
"Okay, see you then." Peter hung up.
Max went back to mashing the sweet potatoes and finished, washing her hands off in the sink. She wiped the goop off of her phone and the time caught her eye. 5:00. One hour and she hadn't even wrapped his present yet!
Max ran from the kitchen and dashed off to the living room, passing Steve who had appeared with a carton of eggs. "Where's Peter's gift?" she rifled through the presents underneath the tree. "He's going to be here in an hour."
"Don't worry," Steve said calmly. "You put it in the kitchen."
"Why would I do that?"
"I don't know, ask your past self." Steve hauled the eggs to the kitchen counter.
Max ran back to the kitchen and grabbed for it, but tripped and fell face-first onto the tile floor. The girt somersaulted through the air and landed in an open bag of flour with a white puff.
"No!" Max jumped up and dug for the present, pulling it out coated up to her elbow in white. "Work, godammit!" She pressed buttons fruitlessly. With a growl, she threw it across the room and it shattered against the wall.
"Well that won't help," Steve knelt down to pick up the pieces. He gathered them in one hand and put them into a shallow dish.
"What am I going to do?" Max's mind raced.
"Hey," Steve clasped her shoulders. "It's the thought that counts, Max. He'll still love you no matter what you give him."
"It was perfect, though." Max sighed.
"It's gone now, so there's no use worrying anymore." Steve handed the dish to her. "Do you still want the broken bits?"
Max shrugged but took them anyway and slid them into a small box just as the doorbell rang. "At least I have something to give him."
Steve patted her on the back. "That's the spirit!"
Max rolled her eyes and sent a glare his way as she walked over and placed the present underneath the tree. She unlocked the front door and pulled it open, greeted by Peter and his aunt in winter coats, cheeks red from the cold.
"Merry Christmas!" Aunt May hugged Max as she opened the door to let them in. She took off her coat and put it on the rack next to the door.
"Merry Christmas," Peter whispered in her ear as he leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. He produced a small package from the pocket of his coat. It was haphazardly wrapped with reindeer patterned paper and topped with a bright red bow. A large tag read simply, 'Max.' He had obviously taken a lot of care to wrap it, but didn't know exactly how to do it, hence the lumpy consistency. Max thought it was sweet.
"Thank you," she pecked him lightly on the lips with a smile.
"Unwrap it," Peter said excitedly, pushing it into her hands.
Max bit her lip and took the present hesitantly, then went to go and get her gift for him from underneath the tree. The box was unwrapped and Peter raised an eyebrow as if asking for permission to open it. Max nodded. Inside were the remnants of a digital watch. It wasn't anything fancy, just something functional, but now it was barely even that.
"I got you a watch, because you're always late for something and never have one, but then it fell in a bag of flour and I threw it against a wall." Max scratched the back of her neck, an embarrassed blush creeping up onto her cheeks.
"It's perfect," Peter laughed, looking at the broken bits of plastic and wires. Max gave him a weird look. "I tried to make you a bracelet out of spider silk, but when I measured it on my wrist, this happened." He took off his mittens and pulled up his sleeve to show that the silk was stuck to his arm hair. "And I couldn't get it off, so I just wrapped an ornament from our tree." He smiled sheepishly.
Max grinned. "We suck at gift giving."
"Yeah," Peter leaned in for a kiss. "We do."